


i wear nothing but a mask

by talonyth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Assassin Hinata and King Kageyama, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 07:17:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3887227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talonyth/pseuds/talonyth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hinata receives the task to kill a certain king, it makes him falter whether what he is doing fulfils him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i wear nothing but a mask

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boxofwonder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxofwonder/gifts).



> first of all, this is dedicated to my bff nico even if i did not manage to finish it at the same time as she finished lwu but nonetheless!! i'm super proud of you, nico and this is just a weakass present!! second of all god bless lynn for helping me out with some stuff, and now you all!! pls have fun, i hope you enjoy it!!

Ever since he’s been born, Hinata has always been hiding a part of himself. He has been raised to be a killer, an assassin, one of a kind for his quick feet and reflexes made him seem like a phantom, there for a blink of an eye and gone in the next. But he never chose to live this life. A life of taking other lives as if it were nothing, faced with the fragility life itself bears every day of his own. 

He hates it. But that, he’d never show. He has to survive and it is the only thing he excels in. His personality is a different altogether, so he thinks, contrasting the dark shade his profession casts upon him. But perhaps that, as well, is just a thing to hide the things that burn him from within. A mask he wears to keep himself sane and positive for his life up ahead. 

Very much so he is used to his face being covered, should anyone ever discover him yet this type of mask sitting on the bridge of his nose like a pair of ill-fitting, far too large pair of glasses is a first even to him. He feels it might be too fancy of a mask for his mission, heavy due to being made of clay apparently, elaborately blackened in the deepest hue of black Hinata had ever seen, delicate flourishes in gold contrasting it. It had been sent to him along with an invitation to the masquerade ball, the poison for him to use and detailed instructions including a simple but effective last phrase. 

_Kill the king and you will be crowned a saviour._

Hinata has never considered the king to be kind, he guessed before that someday someone might ask him to do this. Him or any other assassin. He knows he wished for it to happen to him though, the bounty for the king’s head in his eyes to be the highest. Not because he hates him. He has no reason to for he falls out of his jurisdiction, living in the shadows. But he is aware, he has heard gossip about the king being a selfish and egocentric person even though their kingdom has kept its wealth and name still. 

He’d been nervous taking on a mission like this. Killing a commoner, that Hinata barely thinks of when he does it. They aren’t guarded, not cautious at all times, there are times when they are alone. Townsfolk surprisingly often save their money to have someone they hate killed. It’s a cruel world, Hinata thinks, but he doesn’t mind as long as it secures his income. His life. He shouldn’t mind it. It’s the first rule an assassin learns. Sympathy means nothing. Victims are just faceless. A task, nothing else. 

And so is the king. 

Yet Hinata realizes in surprise, quick enough, that this is not going to be as difficult as he originally thought. His eyes roam the ballroom, filled to the brim with people swaying to music in pairs but none of them, despite their expensive masks, looks like the king’s. Hinata memorized the picture of his mask attached to his instructions, it still burns on the back of his lids. Golden curlicues entwined, each individually finer and thinner than the next, as if they’d break at the very first touch albeit made of solid metal, branching out like a butterfly’s wings at the borders. Small jewels were inlaid beneath and over the eye parts as well as on the parts covering his forehead. 

He should be here somewhere but there is no sign of that very particular mask anywhere. Hinata is ready to give up when he turns to look outside into the garden, a single person sitting on a bench far aside from the music and the celebration, almost too small in the distance if not for Hinata’s good night vision. 

No harm in trying to see whether it is him so Hinata sneaks out, slipping between a mass of people and stepping outside. He can still only see his back, seeming oddly detached and unfitting, frail even, in a cloak of crimson. As if he is trying to hide, trying to stay away from anyone trying to approach him. 

With every step Hinata takes, the music softens to the point it is barely audible any longer when the figure moves and turns around - and Hinata is left breathless at what the faint light from the ballroom still shows. The mask, just as it was described, sits perfectly on the face of its wearer, a harmony of golden swirls covering the area around the eyes though filigreed enough for Hinata to recognize strict, almost harsh features in the face of the other. 

At first. The second he sees Hinata, his face softens alike to how the music did earlier and shows a different expression altogether, one Hinata has rarely seen on anyone thus is unable to categorize it. Closest to that might be understanding but what would he understand? What would he realize? There is no way he knows what is going to happen to him, is there? 

Perhaps, he thinks, he might have imagined it as the next second Hinata’s eyes perceive the king moving, a stern face is visible through the thin-layered mask covered in gold and diamonds. It truly is worthy a king and Hinata wonders whether those are jewels that shine in a pleasant hue of royal blue or whether those might be the monarch’s eyes. He has never seen the king, doesn’t remember having ever been into a situation where he needed to know, given his coronation had been not too long ago. 

It makes it even more tragic to Hinata he has to kill him already ...but when does he ever think of something like this during a mission assigned to him? He has no room for sympathy. It does nothing for him. Nothing but make him falter and fail and he absolutely cannot afford that. He takes a deep breath and a smile spreads on his lips automatically. 

“Hello there! You sit here outside all on your own when there is a celebration going on? Shouldn’t you be inside and dance the night away?” 

Truly, would he not be an assassin, would he be perhaps a prince of a neighbouring kingdom or just the son of the most popular tailor in the capital, anyone worthy of receiving an invitation, he would have said the same alas not for the same reason. He has to be charming, approach him properly, win his trust - and if there is anything Hinata is naturally good at, then that. This, definitely, is a part of his true nature and has never been taught to him nor had to like killing had been. 

The monarch turns his back on Hinata again and for a second, he is sure the king will keep quiet until his voice sounds. And he suddenly wishes he had no ill intent towards him as the king says, “I don’t like the crowd.”

It sounds awfully lonely, as if he’d been trained to say that. As if he had trained himself to say it. Over and over again. It makes Hinata’s heart sink. Just like him, the king seems to try and be something he is not. Without doubt, a tragedy is about to unfold and he is forced to be the main actor. 

“Then how about dancing?” Hinata asks, letting his mouth run rather than his mind. He knows in situations like these, it won’t fail him unlike his mind usually does. “Do you hate that too?”

The king turns around again, Hinata shuffling around him and keeping up his smile. The king’s mask barely covers his face - but the darkness of the evening does. Still, Hinata can make out that the monarch must be about his age and of the handsome type, combined with elegant movements fitting for a person like him. Seeing him from the front like this, despite the terrible lighting, it makes Hinata wonder how he looks without the mask on. 

“I’m good at it,” the king replies eventually and Hinata huffs. 

“This doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“I take it you don’t know who you are speaking to.”

“And I take it you really want to dance but you don’t have anyone to do so out here.”

Only then Hinata realizes his tone might be inadequate. He could get himself killed like that before he can finish his mission - or, and that Hinata realizes quickly, closer to the king whose mouth moves in a manner that Hinata guesses he is pouting because he’s been found out. It’s… curiously endearing. For someone supposedly being a tyrant, that is. 

“Fret not, your majesty! I know very well who you are and what you want! And I am here to fulfil your wish! I will dance with you!”

“I don’t want to go back in there.” 

“We’ll do it here.”

“There is no music.”

“But there is! If you listen closely, you can even whistle and hum along!”

And so, Hinata keeps quiet and listens, discerning bits and parts of the piece played inside, grabbing the monarch’s hands and pulling him up from the bench. He expects resistance of any kind - you do not simply trust a person inviting you for a dance in the middle of the night, especially not as a king - but there is none except for a grunt, more out of surprise than anything else. Could it… be as easy as this? For him to talk to the king as he does with anyone else, treat him as he treats anyone else and for the king to allow all of that… something feels off and Hinata feels shivers run down his spine at the mere thought of it. 

As lucky as he can consider himself knowing he shouldn’t be but the king’s hands are vastly distracting, soft skin, softer than any silk Hinata has ever touched on a man of wealth. Likewise, their proximity makes Hinata aware of a pleasant scent coming from the king, definitely some sort of expensive soap made of the most exclusive flowers and oils and suddenly, he curses endless hours of practice of heightening his senses in order to be able to kill more effectively. 

He hums along and makes the first step, obviously thinking he would be the one leading considering it took the monarch off guard but to his surprise latter quickly regains his composure and about a minute later Hinata wonders how he became to be the one lead. He doesn’t particularly mind, aware that his dancing skills are subpar as the king points out quickly. 

“God damn it, watch your step, will you?” he scoffs, pulling Hinata closer to him, large hand on Hinata’s back keeping him as steady as he wishes. It’s cold, his hand but it’s not surprising when a chilly breeze runs over the garden. 

“Why don’t you lead me better then? Perhaps then I wouldn’t feel the need to step on your feet.”

A surprisingly casual king, Hinata finds, alongside the fact that he is a very good dancer. Reluctantly as he tells him when the next piece starts, never enjoyed dancing much but what can you do, you have to have manners, he said. By their 4th dance, Hinata starting to feel a little dizzy from turning and twisting but considerably less clumsy, he learns that the king has a nice singing voice as he hums along the pieces by now, knows that he enjoys lengthy walks in the garden, especially at night and prefers strawberries to raspberries. And he forgets, for a second, that this person is a king but most importantly his task. 

It strikes him after their 9th dance in a row, both out of breath yet still holding onto each other. It should feel stranger, should feel wronger but it doesn’t and it scares Hinata. It scares him more than the prospect of being lured into a trap, of being found out and executed, more than anything, Hinata fears his own feelings. Feelings very much shared by the other, continuously stressing what he would do if he weren’t king. What he would do if he were to decide of his own. There is no freedom, neither for one nor for the other. 

“Would you like to drink something, your majesty?” he hollowly says, his voice sounding alien to him, taking a step back yet not letting go of his hands. He prays for the king to decline his offer, he had rarely wished for anything more.

“Ah. Yes, a drink sounds good. ...And it is Kageyama,” he breathes, “My name, it’s Kageyama.”

Hinata squeezes his hands - _Kageyama’s_ hands - a last time before he lets go of them and nods. It’s a beautiful name, and somehow it suits him far too well. “I understand.”

There is a rule, universal, you would not think of it but it is crucial, for an assassin to never introduce themselves. Never to say their name and if they have to, to use a fake one. But Hinata slips, without thinking twice. “I’m Hinata and you still suck at leading.”

“You just suck at dancing.”

He snickers before Kageyama can get a hold of him again to reprimand him and it doesn’t stop until he is inside. The music is blaring into his ears. It feels uninvited, anything does. In his own skin, he does. And every step feels like his feet are made of lead when he walks inside, grasping off a table full of the most expensive drinks two glasses and a bottle of what he thinks might be strawberry sirup. He fills them and he realizes his hands are trembling. 

He had never been free to decide what to do. He’d always, always wanted to break out of this. Make use of his training otherwise. Help instead of kill. But the last time he tried, his wings were clipped and his family killed. They were gone and it had been his fault for trying to run, for trying to flee. But now, there is nothing more left but that bitter feeling. He could live with that. He could try it again. He’s got nothing to lose except for his own head. 

And perhaps ask Kageyama to join him. He might. He could run instead of being killed. Hide instead of waiting to be slain. Because Hinata knows, even if he fails to kill Kageyama, someone else certainly will fill in his role. Whoever wants Kageyama dead, they will find someone else to do it instead as it reminds Hinata that there is a saying among the assassins going as such. ‘If a client wants someone’s head on a plate of pure silver, they will always find a way to receive it - on a plate of gold, even.’ There is always someone better than you at what you are doing. And all clients so far have proven to fit the saying perfectly. 

Kageyama will die if he stays here, whether it is by his hands or not. 

But he wants to give him a chance to live. Ironically, of all people. It makes Hinata smile at the very thought of it as he turns around from the table, the swaying people and the music. Even if it is for his own satisfaction, he could help this very person escape his chains just as he plans on doing it. If Kageyama allows him to, he will truly and genuinely fulfil a wish for him - the wish for freedom.

He steps outside, the cold air stinging in his eyes as he balances both glasses in his hands, walking towards the bench Kageyama had previously been sitting on. He is standing in front of it now, looking somewhat lost in Hinata’s eyes. 

And then, he sees the hands. 

Hands grasping Kageyama from behind, trying to hold him steady, the king’s eyes widening in surprise behind his mask, and Hinata knows this stance, this process, this--- way of killing. In a flash of a second he sees a blade being raised to Kageyama’s throat and quicker than he has ever been before, quicker than he thought his legs would carry him, he lunges out to grab the hands, to stop them, to prevent this from happening. 

Of all things, of all moments, he doesn’t want to fail this one right now. 

He doesn’t care about crashing against the bench when trying to jump over it, about his ribs hurting from the impact, he doesn’t care about his hands shaking, glasses fallen and shattered on the ground in bits and pieces when he gets a hold of the assassin’s wrist and forces it away to the left with as much power he has left, grabbing Kageyama’s collar in the same movement and shoving him away to the right side. 

Away, just away from the blade, yet to Hinata it seems as if it is too late already when he tackles the assassin with his entire body down the ground as soon as Kageyama is out of their way. He can see the dagger glistening in a dark shade of red and he doesn’t dare, not for a second, to look to his right side. The assassin’s left wrist is still in Hinata’s hand, holds it as firmly as he can and smashes it to the ground, hearing a grunt as reply - among with a punch to his face from the hand Hinata hasn’t gripped yet. It hurt considerably more due to the heavy mask pressing onto the bridge of his nose with the strength of the punch combined but he ignores it. It’s not over yet. 

In an attempt to shake him off, the assassin tries to clutch onto Hinata’s clothes to change positions but Hinata doesn’t think a second, his body reacting long before his mind does. His face hurts, his ribs hurt, his muscles are a single burn from exerting a force that goes far beyond the abilities of his body yet he manages to block the assassin’s attempt and in one abrupt motion, grabs the other wrist and smacks the other’s hand into his own face with his entire strength without letting go. 

There is noise Hinata can’t categorize any longer, can’t discern whether he is the one wheezing and groaning or the assassin or possibly Kageyama but he cares little, it might as well be all of those together. At this point, Hinata is not in the slightest aware of what his body does any longer, it’s automatic. A struggle to survive that he forgets about techniques, about the fact that his profession involves taking someone’s life skillfully, that he should be capable of keeping a cool head in a situation like this. A target could always fight back, an assassin cannot let themselves be bothered by that. 

But right now, Hinata is neither an assassin nor on a mission. He is simply in despair and panic. Something victims must have felt as well when he killed them. A feeling so strange, unknown to him that he wants to cry. 

He doesn’t know how he manages to rival the other assassin’s strength when he can feel himself trembling and shaking, when he can feel the other clearly superior to his own strength but perhaps it is despair that fuels him. That he might have lost the one person he, of his own will, decided to protect. Even if he’d only known him for a few hours, possibly less. 

The assassin manages to push back eventually, Hinata staggering for a second as the mask slips off his face entirely. It allows the other to give him another punch, straight to his face again and in disarray, Hinata is being tackled onto the ground in the next second. It had been a single moment of being unwary, a single moment of the assassin’s arm wrapping around Hinata’s waist and pulling him down but it allows Hinata to grasp one of the shards from glasses that had fallen and ramming it into the assassin’s neck with as much force as he still has left. 

There is a painfully sounding moan, a clattering, a thump, all together maybe. Hinata is like hypnotized, realizes the dagger is just in his reach now that the other had dropped it, finally, as a result from the heavy blow. Realizes and grasps it. Realizes and grabs onto the other’s hair as he sits up. Realizes and slits his throat before he can regain his composure. 

This is not the first time he killed someone but he had wanted it to be the last. His hands are shaking as he pushes the body away from him, having gone motionless right after. Frantic, his breath is frantic and his movements are. 

Kageyama is still lying on the floor as Hinata crawls up to his side, trying to breathe, trying to see. He is covered in blood but his eyes are open, mask long off his face. He is breathing. He is not dead yet. 

And the first thing he does when he sees Hinata is laugh. It’s breathy, it sounds exhausted but he laughs and Hinata feels like he wants to cry. They barely know each other. But to him, Kageyama is his exit. Even if the other doesn’t think so. Even if he never might. 

“I am more tenacious than I thought…” Kageyama says, one hand holding to the crook of his neck. Hinata can barely make out what must have happened to him, it’s dark and now he starts waking up from what has happened. Bones and face aching, the taste of iron on his tongue spreading disgustingly far. “Alas, I was taken by surprise… I had thought it was you…”

It is about time someone comes to see what has happened, Hinata thinks. They must have been louder than he remembers. But the music is still playing and there is no sign of anyone having even noticed what had happened. He takes a glance to the body of the assassin, blood seeping into the gravel of the garden. He… had not been the only one. 

“You were to kill me, weren’t you?” 

Kageyama’s breath runs short and Hinata bows over, grasping his hand and pulling it away to see the injury. The dagger must have sunken into the crook of his neck when he shoved Kageyama away. it’s bleeding, terribly so but unwilling to answer, Hinata starts treating the wound. For that, he thanks his profession and his clumsiness, having to have treated injuries by himself he can at least do as much as that. So Kageyama knew. 

“I’d been told…” he goes on, his voice weaker than it was before, “that you would come to end my life… someone with a mask like yours…”

Hinata rustles through his pockets, taking out a small bag containing a needle and threads he stole from a doctor’s office in town after he killed him. He can’t count the amount of times he’d been grateful for that specific job. Alongside of those, he picks a small vial of disinfectant out of it. Anything to avoid telling Kageyama that, indeed, he is right. He could tell him. It’s not like he means to kill him any longer. “Hold still, alright?” is the only thing he says when he opens the vial and pours a small amount onto the wound. 

Kageyama squirms and Hinata can’t remember ever feeling as uncomfortable about hearing someone cry in pain. Not even himself. But he doesn’t protest at all. For all Kageyama knows, Hinata could still try and kill him. What if this had been poison? What if now he will simply do the cut right, nice and clean? He must have seen that Hinata is very well capable of that. 

“You… didn’t…”

“Hold still.”

“Why…”

Hinata takes a deep breath to calm his shaking hands, to no avail. This is probably going to hurt, considering he is a king, never used to pain or the like. “Because I’m tired of it,” Hinata replies, truthfully, and makes the first stitch. As expected, Kageyama tries, he does, to keep still but by the sounds he makes, Hinata is able to tell that he’s barely able to bear it at all. Distract him. Perhaps… 

“If you knew I was a killer, why did you speak to me in the first place? You’d seen my mask when I talked to you.” As Kageyama tries not to move, Hinata tries to hold his hands steady. It works a little better now although the pain all over his body calls him. Now of all times. Just a little longer, that would be fantastic. Another stitch, another squirm, another long, long pause until Kageyama speaks. 

“I was… ready…”

“Ready?” Hinata pulls the thread and lets out another breath before he goes for another. “Ready to die?”

“Yes… I’d never… been good…”

And another. By now, Hinata thinks Kageyama might have passed out already until he speaks up again, his voice breaking already. “I’d… wanted to be… what I’m not…”

He shouldn’t, Hinata knows he shouldn’t but the corners of his mouth twist. “Yeah, I understand that. But… so willingly giving yourself into the hands of an assassin? More than murder that’s suicide.”

“I… wanted to… be free…”

As if he had gotten used, or perhaps simply numb from the pain already, with every further stitch Hinata does, Kageyama moves a little less. He doesn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. “Is that why you called all guards off? I have never seen a king this unguarded.”

“They left… me… I couldn’t… reach them…”

It’s almost finished. Almost there. 

“I’d… been terrible to them… but I didn’t see… until… they were the ones… sending you...”

“You don’t seem that terrible to me. Kind of rude, for a king but…”

There is something Hinata thinks might have been the attempt of a chuckle but it sounds cut off, breathless. “You were… the rude one…”

Hinata picks a pair of small scissors out of the bag and cuts the thread through. It would need some proper bandaging but that is nothing he could do here. The only thing he can do for now is covering it with a patch for now. Until he can treat it better. 

“Kageyama,” he says then, as he applies the patch, “let’s leave, then.”

It is the first time Hinata looks into Kageyama’s face - and realizes the mask is gone. Of course it is. And his face is just as he imagined it to be although looking much more tired and beaten but naturally it would. “What…?”

“I’ll take you with me. We’ll… I don’t know, we’ll leave. Just far far away from here. You said you wanted to be free, right? You said you had a ton of things you’d wanna do if you weren’t king. So let’s.”

It’s self-satisfaction, Hinata reminds himself. Purely and entirely. Just for him to feel better about having saved someone for once. But it is not just that. It is not as simple as that. Especially not when he sees, though crooked, a smile on Kageyama’s face. 

“Leave to where…?”

“Anywhere! Out of the capital! Out of the kingdom! That guy…” Hinata looks over to the assassin he had fought with only a little while ago. It’s scary after all, to think how easily a life can fade. “...I will leave my mask with him. They will think it is me who died. If it really were your guards hiring me, they will know you fought back and left. They just wanted you gone, right? Well, they will have you be gone! You will, with me!”

Hinata pulls Kageyama upright for him to sit, his body screaming not to but Hinata can’t be bothered. He can rest enough once they are out of this garden, out of this palace. Kageyama squeezes Hinata’s hand tightly, with more strength than Hinata thought the monarch would still have left in his bones. 

“Then let’s… let’s leave… together.”

Life is so short, Hinata thinks. It is such a fragile thing. He has seen it break more often than not, has seen it fade more often than he enjoyed. But its brittleness makes it possible for changes to take place, at any time, at any place - with anyone. And so, the assassin’s mask and the king’s mask both, they were decided to be cast off and never to be worn again.

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt i received was meeting on a masquerade ball, i honestly don't know how my brain thought "hey how about you make hinata an assassin! and he has to kill kageyama!" 
> 
> there were multiple endings for this, so many that at some point i joked about making this into a time manipulation au but i'm not touching those ever. i hope you still managed to enjoy, despite the terrible, terrible action scene, i'm still in training for those.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [we want nothing but each other](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465144) by [talonyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talonyth/pseuds/talonyth)




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